


If Love Was Enough

by FortuitousOccurrence



Category: American Revolution RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: American Revolution, Angst, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, Time Travel, Tragic Romance, idk ok i try but i'm not perfect and i change some stuff bc it works better in the story, sue me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-08-21 11:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuitousOccurrence/pseuds/FortuitousOccurrence
Summary: Amy Peale, a 23 year old historian, somehow goes back in time where she meets her ancestor, Charles Peale, at Valley Forge during the winter of 1777-1778. During her stay at Valley Forge, she meets a variety of influential figures which she has been fascinated with throughout her life and daydreamed about meeting, and things go very different than she imagined.[This began as a cheesy self indulgent, self-insert fanfic and turned into something a little more serious but still self indulgent with moments of cheesiness. So, I hope you enjoy this cheesy but semi serious story of love and angst set against the backdrop of the American Revolution.]





	1. Chapter 1

“So, Amy, have you thought about grad school again?” 

“I’m still not really sure about it,” Amy replied, sliding another drawer shut. 

“The longer you wait, the harder it will be to get back into it,” Jane, Amy’s boss, said. It hadn’t even been six months since Amy graduated and she’d heard that question more times than she can count. If she wanted to get anywhere in her field, she needed a graduate degree. She knew this for ages and no one let her forget it. 

“I’m just worried that I won’t be able to keep up, you know? I don’t know if I’m cut out for it.” The two women left the archives, shutting off the lights behind them. 

“Of course, you’re cut out for it. You need to give yourself more credit,” Jane said. “You landed this internship, didn’t you?” she paused to glance at her younger friend. “You’re much more capable than you think you are. You would be an excellent candidate for grad school.” 

“Still, I’m just not sure yet,” Amy added.  

“I know,” Jane glanced at Amy again. “I understand. I just want you to do well.” The two women picked up their jackets and purses from the office before leaving, locking the doors behind them. The crisp, cold winds of winter bit through their clothes as they walked towards the parking lot. 

“Goodnight,” Amy called over before entering her car.  Jane didn’t hear her before she entered her own car and started her commute home. 

Amy drove home quietly, grad school still on her mind. She still felt burnt out from her bachelor’s degree. It was exhausting and she needed more time yet for the stress of the ordeal to ease before she began something new. 

Her night was almost entirely normal. She came home from her internship. She pet her cat as it rubbed against her legs while she tried to decide on dinner. She scrolled through news articles while she ate. She looked at a few grad schools online then gave up because she started feeling stressed. Once she finished the new episode of a show on tv, she decided to go to bed. She brushed her teeth and changed into a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt. 

Suddenly, she thought she saw something move outside her bedroom door. The floor creaked softly in the hallway. Glancing around she looked for her cat, though she knew her cat couldn’t make that sound. She decided to investigate. After slipping her phone into her pocket, she grabbed the baseball bat behind her bedroom door.  _ Just in case _ , she told herself. 

There was no one in the hallway. Her cat sat on the top step of the stairs. 

Footsteps downstairs caused her heartbeat to quicken. Someone was there. Creeping down the stairs, she dared to peek out to see who it might be. Suddenly the footsteps quickened and she heard the front door open and slam shut. Continuing slowly through her apartment, she looked through each room on the main floor, finding no one. Once she checked each room, she turned to the front door. She looked through the peephole and what she saw was unusual. There were no other lights, besides that light coming from her own windows. She couldn’t even see the reflection of the lights on her car. 

Opening the door, she stepped out, bat still in hand. 

“What the hell,” she whispered. Her neighborhood was gone. In its place was only trees and snow and the dark of the night. The door swung closed behind her with a thud that extinguished the light of her windows. Startled, she jumped and turned around. Her home was gone. It vanished along with the pavement beneath her feet and the lights and sounds of civilization which previously surrounded her. “What? What the hell? The fuck is going on?” she sounded like a broken record repeating only the words of confusion that came into her mind. Her breathing quickened to a record pace and she chose to kneel in the snow in case she should faint. 

“I’m dreaming. That’s what’s going on, I’m dreaming,” she supposed. Looking at her hand a moment, she shoved her thumb between her teeth and bit down. “Ow, fuck,” she shouted, wrapping her thumb with her other hand, dropping the bat. “What does this mean? It’s not a dream? It has to be a dream,” she paused for a second, looking up at the sky. “Where am I?” Pulling her phone from her pocket, she checked the time. 12:05 AM. She had no service and no wifi. “Ok,” she sighed, “at least I still have a flashlight.” She flicked on the flashlight on her phone and tried to look around. Picking up the bat in her other hand, she started walking away from where her apartment was, into the night. If she could find someone else, then maybe she could figure out what was going on.

It was difficult wandering through the snow covered woods with only her socks on her feet. She took her time to step carefully through the underbrush. The night was freezing and Amy’s feet especially grew painfully cold as she trudged through the forest. She believed herself to be going northward but it was difficult to see as there were no familiar landmarks to guide her. She kept walking for what felt like hours, hoping that she might find someone else in the forest. And now that Amy had been having essentially an anxiety attack for what felt like hours, she just hoped that whoever she found would be kind. 

She stumbled through underbrush and vines on the verge of tears until she saw lights. It looked like fires out in the woods. Wiping tears with the side of her hand, she continued towards the lights, finally reaching the edge of the woods. Turning off the flashlight on her phone, she looked around at the clearing. There were what looked like small log cabins and fires set up in rows that seemed to go on for a very long way. She didn’t see anyone, assuming that it was because it was the middle of the night. 

Still, she continued walking into the campground. Passing through several rows of cabins further into the camp, she finally spotted someone. 

“Excuse me,” she called out. The man turned and as she approached him, she saw his appearance better. His clothes although tattered, looked like a uniform from the Revolutionary War. She’d seen many old military uniforms throughout her studies and recognized it instantly. She must have walked due North as she lived only a few miles South of the Valley Forge Historical Park. “Is this Valley Forge? I didn’t realize anyone stayed out here overnight,” she added. The man looked startled and grabbed his musket, pointing it at her. 

“Intruder! Intruder!” he shouted, loud and clear. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”  Her tears returned as she dropped her bat and put her hands in the air. 

“My name is Amy Peale. I’m lost. I don’t know where I am, I just walked through the forest and I ended up here,” her voice shook as she stood there, terrified and freezing cold with quiet tears streaking her cheeks. More men shouted and hurried from their cabins, all with weapons ready though not all aimed towards her. They were all on guard, watching her. This didn’t seem like a reenactment anymore, that or they were just super dedicated. One man hurried up to the crowd. He wore a cleaner uniform than the others, she noticed when he approached her. 

“What is your name, miss?” he asked. 

“Amy Peale.” She prayed they couldn’t see her trembling. 

“Amy?” he seemed confused. 

“Amalthea, people call me Amy,” she added. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Where exactly is here? This whole night has been very confusing for me,” she asked. 

“You are at Valley Forge, the Winter headquarters of the Continental Army,” he answered. 

“Alright, and who are you?” she asked. 

“Captain John Peters.” As he answered, he saw her shivering and made a decision. “You two,” he gestured to two men, “come with us.” He looked to Amy, “Come with me, Miss Peale.” She had been polite and cooperative enough and Captain Peters had enough compassion in him to bring her to a cabin much further into the maze of structures.“Stay here,” he commanded her, leaving her alone. 

Two beds sat opposite each other with a fireplace between them. A couple chairs sat against the wall opposite the fireplace. Although Amy was as confused as ever, there was finally warmth. She stood by the fire and savored the heat. After letting herself get warm, she wondered again when Captain Peters might return. Tired and finally warm, she climbed into one of the narrow beds along the wall and while waiting, she fell asleep. 

 

“Miss Peale,” a man’s voice shouted. She jolted awake to see a man in a neat blue and white uniform looking down at her. Gold epaulets adorned his shoulders. Amy pushed herself out of the bed and onto her feet.

“Yes?”  She noticed Captain Peters standing by the door. 

“I’m Major Tallmadge.” He drew her attention again. “I want to speak to you about last night.” 

“What time is it?” she asked, still a little dazed from sleep.

“Sometime after eight in the morning,” he was about to continue speaking but she interrupted him. 

“Ok, you can’t be the real Benjamin Tallmadge, he’s been dead for like 200 years,” she regretted saying it as soon as she stopped speaking. If they hadn’t broken character by this point then are they even reenactors or has something happened to cause her to… No, the idea was too absurd to even put into words, even in her mind. 

“What do you mean dead for 200 years?” he asked, suddenly on guard. She was quiet a moment, putting her hands on her cheeks. 

“I don’t know, I’m confused,” she stopped herself from talking about the future. 

“As am I, miss,” he stared at her with a stern expression. He didn’t trust her and she hadn’t exactly given him any reason to. 

“What’s today’s date? The full date,” she asked timidly. 

“Monday, January 2nd, 1778.” Her eyes grew very wide and she nodded silently. 

“And, I’m at Valley Forge in Pennsylvania,” she said, unsure if she was asking or stating it. “And you’re Major Benjamin Tallmadge?” 

“Yes.”  They were all silent a few seconds before Amy spoke very softly. 

“Oh dear.” She felt herself growing weak and stumbled to the bed where she sat down. She started pushing her hair back from her face and wringing her hands.

“Miss, I still have questions that need to be answered,” Tallmadge spoke up again. He pulled a chair across from the bed and sat down. “Where are you from?” 

“Chesterbrook, Pennsylvania,” she answered promptly and softly.  _ What’s going to happen now? Is he trying to figure out if I’m a spy or not? _ She wondered.

“Do you have any family you can contact?” 

“I’m not sure,” she began but suddenly she gasped softly and went silent. If she remembered correctly, she had an ancestor who was an officer in the Continental Army. Whether he was at Valley Forge or not, she didn’t know but she remembered a great deal about him, enough to find him if she needed to. “Do you know a Charles Peale?” she asked, hoping that finding family might end up being helpful. 

“Not personally, but I know a Captain Charles Peale.”

“Yes, he is kin of mine. He may not know me though, as I am the child of an estranged cousin of his,” she lied effortlessly. “I know I stumbled into this camp without this intention but I would like to speak with him soon, if I can. I hope that our branches of the family might be reconciled, and as you’ve likely considered already, I have no one here… besides my cousin Captain Peale.” 

“I will notify him,” Major Tallmadge replied. “I would like to inquire about your clothing, miss, if you don’t mind. Why are you dressed in this way?” She looked down at herself, trying to formulate some sort of answer. 

“Well... it’s quite embarrassing that I should end up in such a situation without proper clothes. I wore this to sleep in and then I left my house to follow a sound, like someone walking out the front door. When I turned around to go back inside, my home was gone and all familiar sights had disappeared. I was entirely lost, so I began wandering, looking for anything familiar or someone who might be able to help me. I just happened to walk here,” she answered the full truth with this question. The major had a disapproving look on his face when he tried to subtly look her over. 

“I’ll try to find you something more suitable to wear.” He stood up and she followed his lead. “Someone will return with some fresh clothes soon, and I will return when I can with Captain Peale.” He seemed a little confused but turned to leave the cabin, bringing Captain Peters with him. 

“Well, what the fuck was that,” Amy sighed deep, plopping herself back on the bed as soon as the door closed. “Oh dear God, what am I going to say to my supposed cousin when he arrives? Hi, I’m from the future. Your three year old son is my great great great great great grandfather. It isn’t going to work.” She sighed again, laying down on the bed. “Also, who else am I going to come across here? Like what the hell? Benjamin Tallmadge just questioned me. Who else was at Valley Forge?” She thought a moment, trying to come up with a list. Lady Washington. Baron von Steuben. A number of generals: Knox, Greene, Wayne, Lee. Then some more names dawned on her. Alexander Hamilton. John Marshall. Aaron Burr. James Monroe. All four of them young officers in their twenties. The Marquis de La Fayette. Not to mention  _ the  _ commander in chief. She sat in silent awe for several moments. “What the fuck is going on?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy meets her ancestor Charles Peale and convinces him to help her.

 

Some time passed, though Amy didn’t know how long. She lounged on the bed for a time while she tried to figure out what she was going to do, or more importantly what she was going to say when her “cousin” arrived. She didn’t know his entire family tree so she couldn’t very well explain her relation to him. Fiddling with her hair, she tried desperately to think of something.

“Miss Peale,” a tired looking, middle aged woman opened the door with a bundle of clothes in her arms. 

“Yes?” Amy hopped up from where she was sitting. 

“Major Tallmadge asked these be brought to you,” the woman held out the bundle to her. Gently taking them, Amy nodded with a little smile. 

“Thank you,” she paused, and glanced at the contents of the bundle. A pair of stockings, skirts, a shift, a jacket, but also a set of stays. Unsure of how the woman might react, Amy hesitantly spoke again. “Um, do you think you could help me dress? I’ve never been very good at tying my own stays.” It wasn’t a lie, she genuinely didn’t know how to tie them. After so many research papers and books she’d read on fashion history, she had never actually worn any historical garments, like stays or corsets. She wanted to but this isn’t how she imagined trying them for the first time. With only a little reluctance, the woman agreed. 

There were some things she knew to do, which were very simple. Once her modern clothes were off, her shift came first. Then she pulled on the stockings and a pair of leather shoes that the woman brought with her as well. Then came the stays which were unusual but not uncomfortable. Then her petticoat, skirt, and finally a jacket. Once she was dressed, the woman left her alone again. Amy stood in the cabin, fiddling with her skirts and looking down at herself. She wished she had a mirror. Her hair was in a bun which she remade using a hair elastic that she had on her wrist. 

She felt strange in this clothing, like a different person almost. She hoped that dressing the part might make this easier though she knew it probably wouldn’t. They’d see right through her. A knock on the door startled her as she was pacing around the room with her hands on her hips. 

“Yes?” she answered. The door opened and Major Tallmadge entered again, with another man behind him. The two removed their hats once inside. Her heart began racing again. 

“Captain Charles Peale, miss,” her cousin introduced himself, giving a small bow. “I understand we are related.” He gave her a small smile. Charles Peale had kind eyes, and a gentle expression. 

“Yes, I’m so glad to meet you,” she replied, returning the smile. 

“As am I, although I must admit I do not know how we are related? Who are your parents?” Captain Peale inquired. 

“Umm,” she paused momentarily, “Major Tallmadge, thank you so much for connecting me to my cousin but I would greatly appreciate it if you would let us speak in private for now.” She tensed, praying he wouldn’t refuse her. “I would simply rather talk about some family matters privately. I’m sure you understand,” she added. He didn’t seem sold on her request or her relationship to Captain Peale but he still nodded. 

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” he nodded to Captain Peale and left. 

Once they were alone, Amy smiled at her great great great great great grandfather and felt her nerves settle a little bit without the intelligence major watching her every move. 

“Please, let’s sit and talk,” she grabbed one of the wood chairs gestured to the other. After they were seated across from each other in front of the fireplace, she spoke again. “I have something very important and difficult to tell you,” she told him. His expression turned from cheerful to wary and concerned. “I am your kin. You are part of my family and it’s difficult for me to explain how. I don’t know that I even can fully explain how.” She tried to bring herself to tell him the truth. It was the only way to get through this. She didn’t know enough to lie her way into his family tree, so the truth was the only viable option. He sat patiently awaiting her explanation. 

“My name is Amalthea Diana Peale. I was born in the year 1995 in Philadelphia and I am one of your descendants,” she spoke plainly and slowly. 

“Pardon me?” he asked. Suddenly tense, he seemed ready to jump up and run from the room. 

“Please, just listen to my story,” she begged him. “I am so lost and afraid. I don’t know how I got here,” her voice trembled a moment as she leaned forward. 

“How are you my descendant?” he asked, leaning forward as well. 

“It’s January of ‘78, right?” she responded. 

“Yes.” 

“Your wife, Rachel, is pregnant. She’ll have the baby next month…” she paused and tried to remember the date. “The 22nd. On the 22nd you’ll have another son. He’s my great great great great great great great grandfather.” She wasn’t sure if it was the right number of greats but she didn’t really care that much. “His name will be Rembrandt, after the Dutch painter, Rembrandt van Rijn. You name many of your children after artists because you yourself are an artist, a painter. You will paint George Washington more times than any other artist. Your brother, James, is a painter as well, you taught him how.” She had spoke quickly just then, anxious to prove herself. 

He sat quietly, eyes wide for several moments as he stared at the floor in front of him. He seemed scared to her, scared and confused. 

“How can I be sure?” he asked. She was quiet a moment as well, thinking. 

“Help me, just until your wife delivers. If you have a son on the 22nd then you can know that I’m telling the truth,” she suggested. “Also,” she began, “I have my clothes from the future and a device which will not be invented for hundreds of years.” She stood and grabbed her clothing that she came with and showed him her pajama pants and sweatshirt. Picking up her cell phone from the pile, she sat across from him again. 

“This,” she started, “is a mobile phone.” Holding up the smartphone, she turned it on for him and showed him. “One day people will be able to send messages through wires using electricity, even speak to each other miles apart through airwaves, and this is a mobile version that I can carry in my pocket. It also has a camera which creates images true to life, like a painting but exactly as you see things and at the click of a button.” She took picture of him and showed him. He had the same expression the entire time, that of shock, but when he saw his image on the little rectangle he laughed and a smile returned to his face. 

“That is remarkable,” he commented, taking the device from her hands and turning it in his hands. He was in awe of the marvelous tool. The pair was silent for a time as the awe of the smartphone settled between them. “I believe you are not from this time, but how did you get here? To this time?” Taking a deep breath, she relayed her story to him. She heard someone in her house and followed them out the door and she was suddenly in this time, so she wandered looking for help or an explanation. He was silent a while more, thinking over her story. 

“So, what will you do now that you know this?” She bit her lip waiting for his reply.

“I will help you,” he said finally. 

“Oh, thank you,” she felt a weight fly off her shoulders. “If there is a way for me to return home then I will. I don’t wish to be a bother or a burden to you. If I am unable to find a way back then, I will do everything I can to become independent and repay you for everything,” she spoke quickly again, speeding through her thanks in excitement. 

“I believe you are not of this time, but to prove that you are family will require confirmation of your claim concerning my son. I will help you and if your prediction of my wife’s delivery is true then I will welcome you into my family.” He assumed a solemn expression while he spoke. 

“Thank you,” she repeated softly. “Okay, what happens now? How will we explain my relation to you?” He sat up straight in his chair and thought for a moment. 

“You’ll be my uncle’s granddaughter, my cousin. Both your parents have passed, and you heard I was here. Unfortunately I am the only other family you know.” She nodded in agreement with his explanation. “As for where you go from here,” he paused, “you can stay with my wife. She’s staying at a nearby farmhouse.” 

“How far would I be from camp?” she asked, curious and not entirely sure if she wanted to be terribly far from Valley Forge. The possibility to be there and see the goings on within the Continental Army would be incredible and something that she’d dreamed about as a child and as student of history. 

“Not far,” he explained. 

“Close enough that I would still be able to walk to camp?” she asked. 

“Yes, though I don’t know why you would,” he commented. 

“Well, in my time, I studied American history in college and the opportunity to see history unfold in front of me is… invaluable. I would like to find a way to observe the camp, without placing any unnecessary burden on you,” she explained. 

“It wouldn’t be difficult to find you a task within the camp. You can stay with my wife and I, and work among the camp followers. I’m not sure I could send you to work with the wives of other officers.” 

“A job in camp would work very well. It might even prove more interesting from a historian’s perspective, to see working women and where they fit into the war effort first hand.” She could feel the excitement in her growing at the prospect of observing Washington’s camp during such a difficult and crucial time for the army.  

“Are there many women educated at universities in your time?” 

“Yes, very many. In my last year of school, there were more women than men at my university,” she felt proud, though a touch nervous at what he might say. 

“Fascinating,” he simply said, a gentle smile on his face. After another quiet moment passed. 

“Should we tell Major Tallmadge about my, umm,  background?” she asked. 

“I feel that we should but since the information belongs to you, I will not speak of it to him. However, if he asks, I will be forced to be honest with him.”

“I understand.” That pesky anxious tremor returned to her at the thought of Tallmadge intervening. She was afraid that he wouldn’t be as kind to her as her cousin. 

“Well, if you would gather your things, then I can walk you to your new residence and introduce you to my wife,” Captain Peale announced as he stood. Amy folded up her belongings into her sweatshirt, using it like a bag. Her phone however was tucked just inside her stays. “Here, it’s quite a cold walk,” he pulled his cloak around her shoulders and let her tie it closed. 

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. Stepping out of the cabin and into the sun, she was momentarily blinded by the light reflecting off the snow. As her sight returned to her, she saw innumerable identical cabins as well as tents scattered about with fires burning at varying intervals between them. She saw some men about, many of them in tattered uniforms and other clothing. A fair number of them she noticed walked without shoes, or with shoes as tattered as their other clothing. She knew of the suffering that occurred there but she didn’t know the suffering. It was different in person. 

It wasn’t difficult keeping up with Charles. She thought he might be the type to walk quickly and expect her to keep up but he checked her often to be sure she was close to him. It was already easy to tell that he was a good-natured, considerate person. Physically, he was tall, how tall she wasn’t sure but he was taller than she was. His light brown hair was tied in a tidy braid and his uniform was neat, but not meticulous. As she had noted when she first saw him, he had kind eyes that were a deep blue. 

“What should I call you? Seeing as we are family,” she asked out of the blue. 

“I suppose since we are cousins, you may call me Charles but outside the presence of family, I am Captain Peale,” he explained. 

“And you can call me Amy,” she added. 

“I believe Amalthea would be more appropriate,” he commented. “What is its origin?” he asked.

“Greek. My mother named me Amalthea after the adoptive mother of Zeus, who nursed him and protected him from his father,” she explained. “My mother is a professor of Classical Literature at a university and despite my father’s disagreement, she named my brother and I names from Greek myths. But I got the short end of the stick. I was Amalthea and he got Hector, which in my time isn’t that unusual.” 

“Amalthea is beautiful name, you should be proud of the name your mother gave you,” Charles replied. 

“It is a beautiful name but it can be a bit of a mouthful sometimes,” she commented, remembering school days when the teacher would take attendance. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” He chuckled briefly, a little surprised at her question.

“Thirty six,” he answered. “How old are you?” he asked, glancing her way with a grin.

“Twenty three,” she couldn’t help but smile too. “Now, I don’t remember everything about you, just most things and I don’t remember all the dates for the births of your children either so, who can I expect when we arrive?” She paused a moment before adding, “I know you and your wife have lost several children already but you have two at home right now. Raphaelle and a daughter?” 

“Yes,” he swallowed and turned more serious at the mention of his children. “Raphaelle and Angelica are in Philadelphia with their grandmother. They are three and two years old. It will only be the three of us until the baby is born,” he answered plainly. 

“And what is your wife like? I never found many descriptions of her,” she asked. 

“She is a warm-hearted and practical woman. I’m blessed to have her,” he said, his smile returning. Amy smiled at his affection for his wife but then she remembered that Rachel will die a few years after the war. Her smile faltered but returned. She can’t tell him. This will be the worst thing about being here, she thought. They remained quiet as they walked out of the camp and through a patch of woods to a farmhouse. 

Charles opened the door for them, closing it once Amy was inside. He took his cloak from her as she looked around. It was a nice house, she thought as she looked around, better than she was expecting. 

“Come,” Charles touched her arm, guiding her to the next room into the house. A small sitting area near the fireplace where a woman sat sewing. She was tall as well, as tall as Charles, with dark brown hair pulled up away from her face and curls down the back, just past her shoulders. “My love, I have news,” he said, gaining the woman’s attention. He stepped further into the room, leaving Amy behind him. His wife shifted in her seat to look up from the needlework in her lap. From where Amy stood she could tell the woman was pregnant and was able to move with only a little difficulty. The two women smiled at each other then looked to Charles. 

“This is my cousin, Miss Amalthea Peale. She’s going to be staying with us. Amalthea, this is my wife, Rachel,” Charles stood by his wife as he introduced the two of them. Rachel seemed to possess an amiable demeanor, though perhaps slightly less jovial than Charles’.

Rachel tried to stand but Amy spoke before she could. 

“Please, don’t get up on my account. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Charles has spoken so highly of you on my journey here,” Amy interjected, causing Rachel to sit back in her chair again. 

“I’m sure the pleasure is mine,” Rachel replied, glancing up at her husband in slight confusion. “Why didn’t you mention that family was coming Charles?”

“I forgot,” he lied. “Amalthea has had some trouble getting here. She stumbled into the camp at first and Major Tallmadge connected us.” 

“Oh, how exactly are we related?” Rachel asked, a smile still on her face.

“She’s my uncle James’ granddaughter. Her parents have passed, so she sought us out, her closest remaining family,” he explained. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re welcome to stay with us, dear.” 

“I’m very grateful to you both for being so kind to me,” Amy smiled. 

“Amalthea wishes to contribute to the war effort in any way she can. She may even find a job in camp,” Charles said.

“Of course, I’d also be more than willing to help you here if you should need me,” Amy added. Rachel smiled to her. 

“Thank you,” she said. “But there isn’t much to be done until the baby comes, which should be some time yet.” Rachel rested a hand on her stomach and Charles glanced to Amy at the mention of the baby.  

“I’ll let Lucy know to make up the bed in the other bedroom,” Charles excused himself to find Lucy who Amy assumed was a household slave. It made her a little uneasy. 

“Come sit down, my dear,” Rachel interrupted her thoughts. Amy smiled at her host again, taking a seat on the love seat opposite her. “Tell me about yourself.” 

“Oh boy,” Amy muttered, too low for Rachel to hear. “I don’t know what I should say. I enjoy reading and embroidery.” That wasn’t a lie, she really did enjoy it. For once her grandma hobbies came in handy, she thought to herself.  _ What else might be good for a young lady to know during this time? _ She thought a couple seconds. “I am pretty good at French. I can speak it fairly well.”  _ I took like six semesters, I better be good at French _ , she thought. She wasn’t getting much a reaction out of Rachel so she assumed that what she was saying was all pretty basic stuff. “I like to sing,” she added. She might regret that one, not knowing how to sing any songs written before the twentieth century. 

“A singer?” Rachel glanced up from her needlework. “I didn’t know we had any singers in the family.” 

“Surprise,” Amy replied jokingly, internally chastising herself. 

“You must sing for us sometime. Perhaps you might at Epiphany,” Rachel suggested. “Surely you will come with us. It will be with some of the other officers and their wives.” 

“Epiphany?” 

“Yes. It might not be the same this year because of the war but there will still be some festivities,” Rachel explained. 

“When you say other officers, who do you mean?” Amy asked. 

“No one too important. We’ll almost certainly see Lieutenant Colonel Dearborn, Colonel Hamilton, Lieutenant Marshall, and Colonel Pickering. Perhaps a few others as well. Because of the hardships this year, the festivities are much smaller. I’m sure the generals will celebrate in their own gatherings but we will be joining some of the lower ranked officers,” she had picked up her embroidery again, examining her latest stitches. “Of course not all of the young officers are married but I’m sure they’ll be glad to see a new face,” she glanced up with only her eyes at Amy. “Of course, you don’t have to go. You have a few days to decide,” she returned her eyes to her stitching. She smiled a little at the surprised look on Amy’s face. 

“And that’s when?” Amy asked quietly, still a little shocked. 

“Friday, of course, on the sixth.” 

“Of course,” Amy affirmed, biting her lip again. A dinner party with young Alexander Hamilton and John Marshall, what’s not to be excited about? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for a little extra info, I thought I’d share the following links with you. The first has a self portrait of Charles Peale from 1777 when he was a soldier. It also has lots of info about what he did during his military service. I used this webpage and portrait as the basis for my interpretation of his appearance as well as his personality. The second link is a self portrait of himself and his daughter Angelica with a portrait of his first wife Rachel, which I used as the basis for Rachel's appearance in the story as well. 
> 
> http://www.lewis-clark.org/article/2826  
> https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Self-Portrait-with-Angelica-and-Portrait-of-Rachel.jpg 
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome! Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy meets some important men at dinner, including a young Alexander Hamilton and James Monroe. Major Tallmadge appears again and he's still suspicious of the young Miss Peale.

“Are you sure this will fit me?” Amy asked. “It doesn’t look quite big enough for me.” Rachel draped the dark pink gown over the bed. 

“Of course, it will. It was always just a little short on me, so it will do well for you. At least for the holiday,” she brushed her hands over the ruffles on the sleeves. “I’m glad I didn’t bring it all the way here for nothing.” She gave Amy a smile. “I’ll leave Lucy to help you change,” Rachel rested a hand on her stomach as she left the room, the door closing behind her. Amy skimmed her hands over the smooth fabric of the sleeves down to the flounces of ruffles around the cuffs. She had daydreamed about wearing a dress like this but now there was only a weight in the pit of her stomach thinking about where she was wearing it to. 

Lucy helped her dress and soon she had transformed from a poor orphan to a young lady of the middle class, quite a step up. The dress was still a little long, grazing the floor as she walked. She would have to hold it up to walk outdoors or up steps. Lucy left her to help Rachel once her gown was pinned into place. 

Amy let herself enjoy the swishing sound of the fabric as she paced around the small bedroom, smiling down at her skirts. Sitting down at a little desk, now turned into a small toilette with Rachel’s help, Amy turned her head from side to side, examining herself in the mirror, entirely transformed. She had a touch of rouge on her cheeks and her hair arranged so that curled locks draped over her shoulders. Her hair looked much like Rachel’s although, slightly less tamed and more youthful, which she supposed may have been done on purpose, being ten years Rachel’s junior. 

The past few days had been a steep learning curve when it came to 18th century life. Amy was almost always anxious because she didn’t know what to say or how to do certain things and asking Rachel or Lucy was not a viable option with most things, so she learned through observation or trial and error. She hadn’t been back to camp as she was still settling into this life, wanting to get her footing before plunging into another new place with even more people to interact with. This dinner would be a big step, not to mention a big opportunity. She couldn’t tell if it was a dream or a nightmare to go to a dinner with these people, but she was leaning towards a nightmare. 

Once downstairs, they gathered long enough to don their cloaks and they were out and on their way. A carriage took them near the camp to another house, Mrs. Peale could not have walked the whole way, neither would they want to as the weather was bitterly cold that evening. The house was bigger than their own but still not especially lavish. All the fireplaces on the first floor were lit and warmth crept over the Peales as they removed their outer garments in the foyer. Rachel took Amy’s arm as Charles stepped ahead of them to greet their host, Colonel Pickering and his wife. 

“Colonel,” Charles said shaking his hand. “You’ve met my wife, Rachel. This is my cousin, Miss Amalthea Peale,” Charles gestured to each woman in turn. Following Rachel’s lead, Amy gave a small bow of her head when she was introduced. 

“Welcome ladies,” Colonel Pickering gave a smile to each of them. He must have been about Charles’ age, perhaps a little younger. “My wife, Rebecca.” The dark haired woman beside him gave a smile and a curtsy. 

“A pleasure to meet you both.” She had a sweet smile and dark eyes with an air of intelligence about her expression. 

“Dinner will not be served for a short while yet, but please take advantage of the wine and drinks in the parlor,” Mrs. Pickering offered. So they entered the parlor. 

Now the architecture and interior design of the house was not of much special interest to Amy, she’d seen many Georgian homes and historic houses. What she hadn’t seen was the people, how people really looked and spoke. A few men in similar uniforms to Charles milled about the room talking. One other woman was speaking to man near the left wall. Glancing around, Amy wondered if any of them were Alexander Hamilton. She couldn’t tell. None of them seemed to be. Portraits weren’t always the most accurate and many portraits of the men that were in this camp were from later in their lives. 

“I believe I shall sit down,” Rachel told Amy, releasing her arm to make for the loveseat by the wall. Charles offered his arm to Amy as a replacement. 

“Should I introduce you around?” he asked. 

“I suppose you ought to. It might be strange if you didn’t,” she replied. He nodded and led her to two gentlemen standing by the fireplace. 

“Gentlemen, may I introduce my cousin Miss Amalthea Peale,” Charles brought the two of them into the conversation. The two men’s faces lit up at the woman in front of them. She moved her hand thinking to shake hands and before she could change course, the younger of the two men took her hand in his and gently, briefly pressed his lips to the top. 

“Lieutenant John Marshall, at your service, Miss Peale,” he gave her a polite smile as he released her. She felt her heart jump a little at the unexpected gesture. 

“Lieutenant Marshall,” she replied softly, inclining her head towards him with a smile. If only she could fight the blush that threatened her after that kiss.

“Lieutenant Colonel Henry Dearborn, miss,” the other gentleman bowed slightly and she returned the gesture. 

“Where is your family from Miss Peale?” Colonel Dearborn asked. 

“Philadelphia,” she answered. 

“I thought your family were all from Maryland, Peale,” Dearborn asked. 

“Yes, but my paternal uncle relocated to Philadelphia, her grandfather,” Charles replied. Dearborn and Charles began talking of their family origins and Amy studied John Marshall standing in front of her. He listened intently to the other two men and didn’t notice Amy’s eyes on him. This man in front of her, who must be about her age, would one day become Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. He had a kind expression and dark eyes with an air of intelligence about his demeanor. It was strange to see, she thought. She wondered if you could feel the potential of men like him. Were they destined to do the things that they did? Or were they brought to it and molded for the role over their lifetimes? She wondered about this, glancing around the room again. The door opened and closed, bringing a brief, soft breeze of winter air into the house. A few more guests entered and greeted their host. Amy turned her attention back to the men in front of her. They were talking about something else now but she couldn’t follow them anymore. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Amy pulled her arm from Charles and walked over to Rachel, taking a seat beside her. “I’m getting quite hungry,” she commented. 

“As am I,” Rachel added. The two women sat quietly, watching the room. Rachel was friendly enough but from what Amy had seen in a week, she wasn’t a social butterfly. Amy was quite happy with that, being anything but a social butterfly herself. They were friendly with each other and quite comfortable being silent together. 

The new arrivals stepped into the room and Amy tried to observe them discreetly. Two young men, about her age, entered together. Both were of moderate height. One had a mess of dark wavy hair and the other, lighter reddish hair neatly braided in the back, with a single curl on either side of his face. It was a common hairstyle in this period but to Amy it still seemed quite foreign, especially seeing that many of the other men opted for simpler styles. The pair greeted the group of men gathering near the fireplace. 

She tried to overhear what Charles was saying to the young men. They greeted each other but then Charles spoke again. 

“You should meet my cousin, Miss Peale,” he glanced at her, and Amy pretended to be looking somewhere else, not at all convincingly. When she dared look their way again, the pair were approaching. She shifted on the loveseat and gave them a smile. 

“Mrs. Peale,” the dark haired one bowed, acknowledging Rachel first. 

“Major Monroe,” Rachel offered her hand to him, which he kissed. “This is my husband’s cousin Miss Amalthea Peale,” she gestured to Amy. Following her cousin’s lead, she also offered her hand and received a kiss from Major Monroe. You know, James Monroe, future president of the United States. For now at least, he was twenty years old and just made a major in the army. Which means that the other man is-

“Colonel Hamilton, it’s good to see you again,” Rachel offered her hand to the Major Monroe’s red headed companion.  

“Always a pleasure, Mrs. Peale,” he kissed her hand before looking to Amy. She was sure her eyes were as wide as dinner plates from the way she looked at him. He was just how he was described. His red hair. His bright, blue eyes. The little bump on the upper part of his nose that he was reportedly concerned about. She offered her hand as well, trying not to seem dazed but her eyes were wide and her mouth parted slightly in awe at the people she was now surrounded by. 

“Miss Amalthea,” he greeted her in a gentle tone, different to the way he spoke to Rachel. He kissed her hand and chuckled softly, as if trying to hide his amusement. It was amusement which took over his features, amusement at Amy’s expression. 

It was embarrassing. 

“Would you excuse me?” she stumbled through the sentence as she stood and walked away. Her heart fluttering like a bird, she felt her cheeks warm. Although she had never been one for drinking, she took a glass of wine from the tray of a nearby servant and promptly thanked him. 

“I apologize if I offered any offense, Miss Peale.” She nearly choked on a sip of wine before she turned to look at him. 

“I should apologize Colonel Hamilton,” she began. “I was umm… I was… lost in my own thoughts and you startled me. I’m sorry I hurried off,” she took a swig from her glass. “There was no offense offered,” she smiled at him politely. Her eyes were still probably a bit wider than they should be. He retrieved a glass of wine as well as a moment of silence passed between them. 

“What brings you to Valley Forge this winter? Surely, you did not come simply for the company,” he asked. 

“On the contrary,” she paused, reminding herself of her new background, “I recently lost my mother and Captain Peale is my closest remaining family. I came to stay with him and his wife while I decide my next move.” She took a sip from her glass and looked down away from his face. 

“Oh, may I offer my condolences?” he paused, “It’s a horrible thing to lose a parent.” 

He would know, she thought, though she didn’t as her mother was alive and well, the last time she saw her. 

“Thank you,” Amy nodded. “I understand that you’re one of Washington’s aides-de-camp,” she commented, slowly gaining more confidence speaking with him. “What’s that like?” He tilted his head slightly, surprised that she would be interested in that.

“A lot of paperwork,” he smiled. The two of them chuckled. “Mostly copying and relaying orders, maintaining correspondence, and the like.” She nodded as she listened, but in her mind she remembered tidbits from the musical Hamilton and other media portrayals of the man in front of her. They’re not always terribly accurate but she can see the truth in them now as he stands before her making polite chit chat. She couldn’t help but smile and stifle a chuckle as she took a sip of her wine. “Did I say something amusing?” he asked, smiling with her but confused. 

“It’s nothing,” she glanced up at him, “I’ve just heard about you from other people and I’m a little surprised but also… not surprised at all.” She looked at him over her glass as she sipped her wine again.

“Aah,” he cocked his head and grinned. “I suppose that would explain our introduction.” 

“Yes, it would,” she felt her face warm again, praying that the rouge would mask any blush that threatened her cheeks. “I hadn’t expected to meet you just then and my reaction felt a bit embarrassing.” 

“I do hope that you’ve been hearing good things,” he commented, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Indeed, I have,” she replied, taking another sip from her glass. 

“Such as?” he encouraged.

“I have heard a great many things about your prowess as a writer,” she paused, digging a little for more confidence, “as well as your eyes.” 

“My eyes?” he leaned a little closer. 

“I’ve heard about your striking, blue eyes. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” She looked down at her glass as she spoke, avoiding his gaze. 

“My eyes?” he asked, visibly amused. 

“Yes,” she took another sip. “I suppose my obvious surprise and embarrassment was the first thing you noticed about me.” 

“Well,” he began, “your surprise was quite obvious but blushing cheeks and a coy expression on a young woman can be very becoming.” She felt a blush rise to her cheeks again as she turned her gaze away at his compliment. 

“I do believe I have no need to hear of your talent for flattery, Colonel Hamilton, for I have experienced it myself,” she said, meeting his eyes for a brief moment. Amy could feel her heart fluttering. Where was she? She almost forgot about the war and the dinner for the time she was held in this man’s attention. She was immersed in playing the part of this 18th century alter-ego she had created in her mind but it left her flustered. Trying to compose herself, she glanced around the room again and looked for anything to draw her out of this. Fortunately, Mrs. Pickering announced that dinner was ready to be served. 

Glancing towards Rachel, she saw Charles helping his wife to her feet. Looking to her conversation partner again, she realized he offered his arm to her. She took his arm with a small smile as he led her with the others into the dining room. As the men greatly outnumbered the women, each woman sat with a man on either side of her. Amy’s place at the table was between none other than Colonel Hamilton and Major Monroe. She bit her lip as she took her seat. Once everyone was seated however, she noticed that there was an empty chair across from her. She was curious about who was intended to sit there but she didn’t ask. 

Dinner was not as terrifying as she feared. Being someone who gets very nervous eating in front of other people, she worried about eating too slow or spilling something but things progressed quite normally, as they should. 

As everyone was nearing the end of the first course, the door opened and another guest entered. Major Tallmadge, she recognized him before their host could address him. 

“I do apologize for my tardiness,” he said as he took his seat across from Amy. “Some work is never done.” Once he was seated, dinner resumed. Several conversations took place at the table. Most of the guests spoke to those beside them but a few spoke across the table. Amy listened in to a few different conversations but had difficulty following some of them. She hadn’t read the popular books or newspaper stories. She knew some bigger events, like some of the battles that had occurred in the war to this point but her knowledge of current events was slim. While searching for something she could talk about, she considered asking about conditions in the camp as this winter was believed to have been very harsh and difficult for the soldiers. She decided to try and ask Colonel Hamilton once there was a lull in conversation, if such a lull should arise. 

Such a lull did arise just before the dessert course. She turned her gaze to Colonel Hamilton and asked her question. 

“Colonel Hamilton, I was wondering what you could tell me about the conditions in camp this winter. I understand that supplies are somewhat short. How are the men faring?” she said, feeling her heartbeat speed up with the adrenaline from speaking up. Hamilton’s expression grew more serious as he answered. 

“Many of the men are without shoes and need new uniforms. Our food reserves are lower than what we need. I, among others, have written to Congress several time requesting aid but-”

“Congress is ignoring you,” she interrupted, gazing at him in sympathy as he nodded and took a sip of his wine. “You must keep writing,” she told him, suddenly very aware of how immediate the issue is at the time she found herself in. “You will find a way to supply the army with what it needs,” she tried to assure him. Amy wasn’t aware of Major Tallmadge’s attention trained on her conversation with the young colonel. 

“The interest of those not in the camp could be a great encouragement to Congress to send supplies and funds,” Major Tallmadge added, joining the discussion. 

“Perhaps I could write as well and encourage others to do the same, urging Congress to take action to support the army which protects it,” Amy said. 

“That would be kind of you Miss, but I doubt it would be much help,” Hamilton replied. “If they haven’t responded to even hard facts about the conditions here, I doubt the word of a single young woman would be of much help.” 

“You may be right,” she admitted, pausing for a moment. “Well, I suppose the real problem might not be whether Congress wishes to give aid but rather whether they are able.” Her comment piqued Major Monroe’s attention as well. “Funds as well as other supplies like hay and food and clothing are hard to come by when many of the producers are allied with your enemies. Sure, there are those who are allied with our cause who can also provide but providing food and clothing for the entire Continental Army is no small feat,” she explained. She could feel herself slipping into a lecture and tried to amend herself. “The British have other resources outside of the colonies. We don’t stand a chance without aid from France because that is the only way that we will be able to last long enough to do any real damage,” she finished, surprised none of the men had interrupted her. Glancing around, she realized several others had also turned their attention to her. “I know when an alliance is cemented with France the tides will turn in our favor.”

“Then let us pray the French ally themselves with us soon,” Major Monroe said, raising his glass. Major Tallmadge watched her with a critical expression on his face. He was interested in how the young woman in front of him held such strong opinions and beliefs about the war as well as knowledge of the resources of Congress. She spoke so firmly about the cause, quite differently from the other women at the table. Aside from this, he was still confused about how she ended up in the camp several nights before in strange clothes and speaking about him being dead for hundreds of years. She was a mystery. He couldn’t yet tell if she was a hazard but he wasn’t about to lose track of her until he was sure. 

“Indeed,” Amy replied, raising her glass as well. The table shifted to other topics, and Amy couldn’t help but feel good about her contribution to the conversation. She felt a little proud of herself for speaking up. 

As dinner came to a close, everyone stood and migrated to the sitting room again. This time Major Monroe accompanied her. The pair stopped by the fireplace and were soon joined by Major Tallmadge and Colonel Hamilton. The trio of men all gave Amy their attention, although they spoke to the group. For the moment, they commented on dinner but Major Tallmadge had questions for Amy. 

“I wonder, Miss Peale,” Tallmadge began in a hushed tone, “if I might speak with you again sometime about your arrival in camp.” He was closest to her and spoke to her softly, for only her to hear. “If you should find yourself in camp again soon, please find me so we may speak more of it.” She felt her heart jump and her breathing quicken. What would she tell him if he had more questions? Looking up at him with a nervous expression, she nodded. 

“I will,” she responded in kind. He wasn’t asking her, but telling. Glancing at the other men who were interested in her conversation with Major Tallmadge, she tried to change the subject. “Major, do you know anywhere I might be able to contribute to the cause personally? I do wish to make myself useful while I’m here.” 

“What would you do?” Hamilton asked, a bit surprised at her request. 

“I don’t know. Mend clothes, cook,”she said. She truly wasn’t sure what she would do. Major Tallmadge seemed mildly surprised but there was also a part of him that was pleased at the thought of a young woman who had no obligation to work here would choose to.

“There are plenty of women, and men, to do such menial tasks. You don’t need to worry yourself with things like that,” Hamilton replied. 

“I don’t wish to be a bother, but I do wish to help in anyway. I have benefited from this war and now that I am here, I feel obligated- that is, I have a great desire to contribute to the cause in whatever capacity I can. Surely, you can respect that desire,” she looked pointedly at Hamilton. 

“Perhaps you can join some of the officers’ wives in their needlework,” Hamilton suggested. 

“Yes, that would be a good role for you,” Major Monroe agreed. 

“If you did we might be able to see each other more often,” Hamilton commented. 

“I suppose,” she acquiesced, growing uncomfortable with Hamilton’s company. “I do not know many people here. It may be nice to meet more of the ladies here.” Tallmadge could see how uncomfortable she was getting and thought to intervene and offer to help her find a place within the camp but Charles approached them. 

“Amalthea, Rachel’s feeling tired. We’ll be leaving in a moment,” he said to her. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he gave them a small bow and nodded to Amy who responded in kind. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the men that surrounded her. 

“Well, gentlemen, thank you for your company this evening but I must take my leave,” she nodded to them, facing Monroe and Hamilton. 

“It’s been a pleasure to see you again, Miss Peale. I hope you’ll come see me again, next time you’re in camp,” Major Tallmadge said, offering his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and he raised it to his lips. 

“A pleasure, Major,” she said, stifling her nerves as she felt his grip on her hand. Looking to the group again, she nodded and said goodnight. 

After giving their thanks to the hosts, the Peales departed for home. The ride was quiet for a few minutes before Rachel spoke. 

“I saw Colonel Hamilton couldn’t take his eyes off you,” she said. “He’d be a good match. He doesn’t have much in the way of money or breeding but he’s ambitious and has good connections.” she commented. “Really, any of those young men could be a good match.” Amy felt her pulse quicken. 

“Yeah, I’m not interested in Colonel Hamilton, and I don’t even know if I’m interested in getting married,” Amy said. Rachel’s gaze snapped to Amy. 

“You’re already twenty-three, dear. If there is a time to think of marriage, it is now,” Rachel advised. Amy bit her lip. 

“I know,” she replied, knowing there was no use in arguing. She hadn’t thought about it until then, or perhaps the reality of it hadn’t hit her until that moment, what would she do if she couldn’t return to her time? Would she be forced to assimilate? To marry a young man and have children? What would that life even be like? Would it change the future if she stayed and built a life with someone? 

There were no clues to the mystery of how she arrived there and there were no clues as to how to return. For the foreseeable future, she was stuck here. This much she knew. But what would she do if she truly is never able to return to her time? 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Charles inform Major Tallmadge of her secret but it takes some convincing. Amy meets some of the other women following the army and tries to help a woman in need.

The night of Epiphany, after they had returned home, Amy told Charles about her conversation with Major Tallmadge. She knew that she would have to tell Tallmadge the truth because if she didn’t, Charles would.

  
Once again borrowing a dress and cloak from Rachel, Amy followed Charles to camp the next morning. She made a point to bring her phone along, stowing it in her pocket beneath her skirts. Following quietly behind Charles, she entered the camp again. This time she more closely observed the men around them. Most of those who wore shoes were officers. None of them looked pitiful though, all the men she saw were working hard without complaint. Singing could be heard through the camp from men at work.  
Finally, they reached Major Tallmadge’s tent. Charles knocked on the wood support to announce their arrival.

“Miss Amalthea Peale to see you, Major,” he said.

“Enter,” Tallmadge replied from within. Taking a deep breath, Amy entered the tent with her cousin.

“You wished to speak with me, Major Tallmadge,” Amy said.

“I do,” the intelligence major stood up from his desk to greet them. “I’d like to question you about your arrival here.” He gestured to another chair near to his desk as he returned to his seat. Amy sat down and began to fiddle with her hands as she eyed the major.

“I’d like to tell you everything about my arrival here,” Amy said. He looked over at her quizzically. When he found her she was so confused and had a difficult time giving him a straight answer but now she seemed ready to confess the entire truth.

“How did you come to the camp on January 2nd?” he asked, turning his chair to face her.

“Well, I did tell you the truth about how I got to the camp,” she began. “I walked out the front door of my home and then the door shut behind me and my home was gone and I found myself in the woods. I walked into the woods hoping to find someone to help me understand what was happening. By chance, I ended up here,” she explained.

“That still doesn’t explain your strange clothes and disorientation. You didn’t even know the date,” Tallmadge commented. Amy glanced up at Charles who stood nearby.

“Well, they were my sleep clothes. I was going to wear them to bed that night before I was transported here. But they were so strange because they are from the future,” she watched his expression carefully, afraid of his reaction. “Please, bear with me, and allow me to explain,” she paused and glanced to her cousin again who gave her a reassuring nod.

“I am Amalthea Diana Peale,” she started slowly. “I’m twenty-three years old and I was born in the year 1995 in Philadelphia. I don’t understand how I came to be here. One moment, I was stepping out of the door of my apartment and the next I was alone in a forest.”

“What on Earth do you mean? That’s over 200 years from now,” Major Tallmadge looked up at Captain Peale in shock. “You believe this?”

“Yes,” Charles replied.

“So when you made the comment about me being dead for 200 years,” Major Tallmadge began.

“I didn’t know that I had travelled through time,” Amy answered.

“But how?” Tallmadge stood up raising his voice momentarily before forcing himself to speak softly, although his tone remained incredibly alarmed. “How can you honestly expect me to believe that you have travelled back in time over 200 years? And that you’re not just some madwoman? Or you’re just spinning tales to manipulate Captain Peale and myself?” he asked as he stared down at her where she sat.

“I can show you proof,” Amy interjected, digging through her skirts to her pockets. She revealed her cell phone and let him examine it a moment before turning it on. His eyes widened as the screen grew bright. She scrolled through apps and showed him the camera like she showed Charles, snapping a picture of his shocked expression and showing it back to him. “It’s like an instant portrait and I can speak to other people through this device by voice or written messages. I can play games and watch moving pictures with it and it all fits in my pocket. I can store music in it and play that music back whenever I want,” she explained. “Here, for example,” she pulled open her music app and tapped shuffle. A small jolt of nerves struck her when the song that came up was from Hamilton. Before “Guns and Ships” could start playing she swiped her finger across the screen to the next song. Bruno Mars started to play and she felt herself relax slightly as she watched the amused expression on Charles’ face and the surprise and intrigue on Tallmadge’s. She swiped to a different song and The Ramones started playing. “And I can store hundreds if not thousands of songs at once,” she added.

“How does this work?” Tallmadge asked, watching Charles reach out to try swiping his finger across the screen.

“I’m not really sure. I know it’s kind of complicated and the technology won’t be around for a long time. Devices like this one became available shortly before I was born.” With a big grin, Charles swiped to a new song and another Hamilton song came up, the album artwork front and center on the screen. “The Reynolds Pamphlet” began playing and she frantically tried to turn it off but not before the name Alexander Hamilton came through the speaker. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath.

“Why did that say Hamilton’s name?” Tallmadge asked.

“It had his name on the picture too,” Charles added, equally concerned.

“Well, let’s just say that he leads and interesting life that much later on makes for a really good musical,” she tried to explain. “You know you can’t tell him anything about this, right? None of this can be shared with anyone. Not Hamilton, not Rachel, and not Washington, no one.” she glanced back and forth between the two men. The men were silent for a several moments, processing or trying to process what they’d just seen, while Amy sat staring at them as her anxiety grew with each second they didn’t speak.

“But how did you come to be here? How did you travel through time? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not possible,” Tallmadge asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand any of it. All I know is that I’m here and I have no idea how to return,” Amy answered.

“And how are you connected to each other?” Tallmadge looked up at Captain Peale.

“He’s my ancestor,” Amy answered. “I’m descended from his son, Rembrandt, who will be born next month.”

“I was wary of this, as I know you are, Major Tallmadge,” Charles began, “but I am inclined to believe her.” Major Tallmadge was quiet, watching the two of them and the device in Amy’s hands.

“I believe,” he spoke slowly, “I am inclined to believe you as well,” he said finally. Amy sighed in relief and relaxed a moment.

“I am glad of that,” she said but another thought occurred to her in that moment as well. “And I have more to tell you, Major Tallmadge, but I fear it must be done in private.”

“Would you mind, Captain Peale?” Tallmadge asked him.

“No, sir,” Charles eyed Amy suspiciously for a moment before leaving the tent.

“What else did you need to tell me?” he asked warily, returning to his seat. She felt the unease in her stomach return as she thought over telling him about the future or even just that she knew somethings but didn’t want to share them. After all, she had no idea what would happen if she did share what she knew about the future.

“I know you will ask what I know of the future and the outcome of the war,” she said. “I’m not sure that I can answer your questions though, for fear of altering future events.”

“A bold but correct assumption,” he said. “Surely, you can tell me something that you know.”

“I know,” she paused a while, shifting to lean forward, “I know about the Culper ring.” His expression hardened and he shifted forward as well.

“How?”

“Their names are known in the future. You, Caleb Brewster, Anna Strong, Abraham Woodhull, and,” she paused before continuing in a slightly quieter voice, “Robert Townsend.”

“How? How do you know?” he repeated in a stern voice.

“There are books written about them in the future, about the ring’s accomplishments during the war. Their names aren’t known during the revolution, only afterwards, years and years after. Townsend’s name isn’t known until the 1930s, I think,” she added. “They’re safe, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have to be careful.”

“Why would you tell me that you know?”

“I don’t know,” she sat up straight again. “There was some dumb part of me that felt like I should let you know that I know. I knew you’d feel better knowing now than something happening later and finding out I knew all along.”

“How can I trust you out in the world with that knowledge?” he asked, sitting up straight as well.

“Know that I want to win the war as much as you do and without them, we would lose this war and the United States,” she answered in a pleading tone. “Without the United States, I don’t know what will happen to the world. We have to win the war,” she said solemnly. “We have to.”

“The outcome favors us?” he observed and she grimaced.

“They teach it in schools at all levels and I studied American History at university, so I know very well what happens,” she explained. “And if I tell you, then you could act differently and the war could go differently and then my future, and even me, may be altered or cease to exist. You cannot allow this knowledge to affect your judgement. You must act as though anything you have learned from me doesn’t exist,” she implored him. The pair was quiet for several minutes, pondering what had just been said. “I don’t even know why the hell I’m telling you all this when I know I shouldn’t be telling you anything,” she added softly.

“Still, I am grateful that you told me what you can,” he replied. “It does help demystify your arrival.”

“Does it though?” she commented.

“Well, no, but now I know more and it isn’t as mysterious as it was,” he sighed.

“I just wish I knew how- or even if I can get back,” she said, her fear creeping into her voice. “No offense but I don’t want to stay here. There’s no running water or central heating or,” she sighed, “modern medicine. I can’t vote. I don’t even care about my computer right now, I just want some comfortable shoes,” she complained.

“You and everyone else in camp,” he commented before asking a follow up question. “Women can vote in the future?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Every citizen can vote; black and white, men and women, everyone.” He thought a moment and nodded with an approving expression.

“And central heating and computers?” he asked.

“In my time, loads of people have mechanical systems that heat and cool their homes to their desired temperature,” she answered. “Computers are kind of complicated to explain. You can use them to type out things and access information and play games and send messages to people across the world,” she said. “They start out really huge but quickly get much smaller. My phone can do a lot of things that a computer can but it fits in my pocket.” She held his entire attention as she explained these aspects of future technology to him.

“We really do accomplish a great deal in 200 years,” he finally said, astonished. He stared off thinking about what had just been revealed to him.

“We really do,” she agreed. They were quiet a moment or two before she spoke again.

“If I am to stay here and witness the war from such close proximity,” she began, “then, I think I’d like to see as much as I can. I mean, I’d like to witness the reactions of people as things happen, like the big things.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Well,” she stopped herself, “I can’t exactly tell you, can I?” She paused a moment. “I’m a historian. I’ve studied American History exclusively for years,” she began. “If I asked to witness something, to be somewhere for something important, could you help me?” she watched his face as he considered it. “I don’t know that I could really use my observations if I ever go back to the future but it would honestly be worth all the trouble of this transition if I had the chance to watch history unfold in front of me.”

“I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “I could help you if such opportunities arise.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “If anything good is to come from this, then it will be the chance to see people like you, important people, who play crucial parts in the war, creating history right in front of me.” She paused, staring off into space a moment. “It is so incredible just to think of walking around the same camp as George Washington, yet I’m actually here.” Tallmadge watched her curiously. She turned her gaze back to him. “I mean, is there any event in history that you are just fascinated with? Imagine if you were able to witness it.” She leaned forward with an energized expression about her. He nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the truth in her statement. “I don’t understand anything but if I am going to find the good in being stuck here, then I have to see it as an opportunity,” she sat up straight again in her seat. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself.” Amy could feel her heart beating fast after her little speech. She was so anxious about meeting Tallmadge and trying to explain things but she spoke so much more than she thought she would.

“It’s an admirable attitude,” Major Tallmadge said, a small smile on his lips. “My brother had a similar outlook, though he never time traveled to my knowledge.” Amy thought a moment.

“William?” she asked. “Died in a British prison?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, astonished. “How much do you know about me?”

“A fair amount. I know more about Washington and Hamilton,” she explained.

“What do you intend to do if you can’t return to your time?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m afraid of changing things just by my presence here, so the thought of having to assimilate and build a life here is, honestly, kind of terrifying.”

“I don’t think I can even imagine what this must be like for you,” he conceded. He had no clue how to help the lost woman in front of him; after all, he knew even less than she did. “You mentioned at Epiphany that you were intending to find work in camp,” he changed the subject.  
“Yes, I hoped that I might get an inside look at the camp if I was able to work among the women or run little errands,” she said. “I’d love to be able to witness first hand the experiences of women who followed the army.”

“I can help you secure a place if you should need assistance,” he offered. “The General can be particular about the women allowed in camp. Unmarried women are more likely to be refused,” he added. “Do you have any useful skills?”

“Well, I can sew and I’m willing to learn whatever I need to in order to stay,” Amy answered. “I want to be here, no matter how hard I have to work to stay.” He nodded softly as he thought it over a moment.

“Well, that settles that, I believe,” he stood from his seat and Amy followed him out of the tent. The pair stopped when they realized Charles wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Was Charles arranging for you to serve with his company?” Major Tallmadge looked to her.

“I don’t know,” Amy replied, looking around for any sign of her cousin. “He hadn’t said anything about that, but I assumed I would be working near him.”

“I’ll take you to his company. We’ll more likely find him there,” Major Tallmadge offered.

“Are you sure you don’t have more important things to do, Major?” Amy glanced up at him.

“Do you know where to find him?” he asked. She was quiet a few seconds.

“Lead the way,” Amy chuckled softly and gestured forward. Major Tallmadge led her through the camp, past innumerable men at work. Some were fixing cabins. Some were taking down and putting up tents. Some were tending fires around which many other men gathered. The men sang as they worked. One song pricked at Amy’s ears and after a few lines she recognized it. “Oh! I know that one,” Amy said to the Major. “I remember getting it stuck in my head, so I learned a few verses of it.”

“Really?” Tallmadge was surprised. Amy listened and waited for the next part.

“T’is heaven-born freedom fires us all, and strengthens each brave son,” she sang along while they walked, not seeing the men taking notice of her. “From him who humbly guides the plough, to godlike Washington.” She felt proud for remembering the words as she sang along. Major Tallmadge couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her curious behavior. It was difficult to imagine what she was experiencing, being transported to a different time that is simultaneously familiar but still so incredibly foreign.

“That sounded quite good,” he complimented her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I suppose I’ll have to learn some of the music now since I told Mrs. Peale that I liked to sing so I’m sure that’ll come back to bite me sometime.”

“If that rendition was any indication, you will do fine if the opportunity arises,” he said, looking ahead as they walked. Amy glanced at him for a brief moment.  
“That’s very kind, Major,” she replied. They walked in silence for a while, weaving in between cabins and tents and small gatherings of soldiers trying to keep warm. Finally, they found Charles’ company but they didn’t see Charles yet. A few men gathered around a fire and a few women were surrounding it too with needles in hand as they repaired uniforms beside the heat of the fire. After a moment, Charles came around one of the tents and noticed Amy and her guide.

“Thank you for helping Miss Peale, Major,” Charles nodded to him.

“Any time,” Tallmadge nodded to Captain Peale then to Amy. “Miss Peale,” he acknowledged her one last time before turning and leaving the way he came.

“So, we have an understanding with Major Tallmadge?” Charles asked.

“Yes, I think he believes me and he has agreed to help me stay here and observe the camp,” she answered.

“I know you wanted to speak with him privately but if I may ask, what did you discuss?” Charles attempted. Amy was a little nervous but wanted to retain her cousin’s trust so she decided to tell him the truth, or at least part of it.

“I’m sorry but I really can’t tell you.” She looked up at Charles sympathetically. He nodded in understanding. “It specifically related to Major Tallmadge and to tell anyone else could be hazardous.”

“I understand,” he said. “Well, I’ve arranged for you to serve with my company. I’ll introduce you to the women and they’ll help you find a task to do,” he explained, gesturing to the women by the fire. “You’ll report back to me when completing tasks for the company and if you do other work for pay, I’d appreciate it if you kept me informed on that as well.” Amy nodded.

“Understood.”

“Now,” Charles stepped over towards the fire and the men and women surrounding it stood when they saw him. “At ease,” he said. “This is my cousin, Miss Amalthea Peale. She’ll be joining you ladies.” Amy nodded to them and put on a smile for the women. “This is Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Stocks and Mrs. Herring,” Charles gestured to the three women in front of them. Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Stocks gave her a nod and Mrs. Herring gave her a friendly smile. Mrs. Stocks appeared the youngest of the group; she seemed about Amy’s age. Mrs. Herring appeared the oldest, probably in her early forties by Amy’s guess. Mrs. Jones was somewhere in between them. “I trust you all will welcome her and help her settle into camp,” Charles finished his address to the group and looked to Amy again. “I’ll leave you here. I’ll be back around in the evening to walk you home,” he said.

“Thank you,” Amy replied before Charles walked off. Glancing back to the women, Amy walked closer, intending to introduce herself on her own and ask where she can get started but Mrs. Stocks beats her to it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Peale,” Mrs. Stocks stands up from where she was sitting and offers her hand. Amy shakes it and gives her a smile.

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Stocks,” Amy replies.

“You can call me Alma,” she answers. “You have such an interesting name. What’s it’s origin?”

“Greek mythology, it’s the name of the adoptive mother of Zeus,” Amy explained. “I’d prefer it though if you called me Amy, for short. Most people do,” she added.

“Amy,” Alma repeated. Glancing to the women behind her, she gestured again to each of them. “Mrs. Viola Jones and Mrs. Millicent Herring.” Mrs. Herring extended a hand which Amy shook and Mrs. Jones again simply nodded to Amy.

“There won’t be a shortage of work for you Miss Amy,” Mrs. Herring said. “With only so many women allowed per company, there’s always something to be done.”

“Are you handy with a needle?” Alma asked.

“Yes, I can sew pretty well,” Amy replied.

“How about knitting?”

“Eh,” Amy began, “I don’t have much experience with it.”

“Alright,” Alma picked up a pair of breeches from a basket, “You can mend these. After that, I’ll take you around to tend the sick and dying.” Alma sat back down and resumed her mending a tear on someone’s vest. The sick and dying. Amy was a little afraid to ask about that so she just took a needle and a bundle of thread from one of the other women and sat down to work. Within minutes she had the tear in the breeches mended and returned them to Alma.

“Come with me.” With a basket of cloths on her hip, Alma led Amy away through a maze of tents and cabins. She noticed mostly women around the tents, many of them wearing dirty and tattered clothes. A few were surprisingly immodest, baring their chests and exposing lengths of their legs to soldiers who approached them, then it dawned on Amy what they were doing and she looked away, focusing on Alma and wherever they were going. Even in this cold, these women were out working, baring their bodies for men; it was a little surprising to Amy.  
They finally reached a larger tent on the outskirts of the camp and went inside. Men laid on cots throughout the tent in an almost haphazard pattern. Many were coughing and wheezing. One man threw up into a bowl and Amy clutched at her stomach, trying to suppress the urge to vomit. Alma put a hand on her arm.

“Come on,” Alma guided her along through the tent and through her new duties, nursing the sick and changing bandages. Although never coming in contact with the illness before, she recognized smallpox throughout the tent. She knew she could only pray that she wouldn’t contract it herself. She insisted on washing her face and hands after they left the tent hours later even though she knew it wouldn’t do much good. This terrified her. Not the fact that people were sick and dying or the work itself but the contagious nature of the illnesses present and her own lack of immunity to them.  
By sunset, she had returned about where Charles had left her earlier in the day. He met her there like he said he would and began to walk her back out of camp to the Peale’s house.

“How was it? Were they kind to you?” he asked.

“Yes, everyone was polite and kind but, um,” she paused, “some of the work did surprise me,” she put it politely.

“Well, no one said the work would be easy. I don’t know what things might have been like -”

“No, it’s not that it’s too hard,” she interrupted. “I just worry about my own health and Mrs. Peale and the baby.”

“You mean the illnesses around camp,” he said.

“Yes, smallpox especially is very contagious and in the future we don’t really have to worry about it, so I have never been exposed to it. If I’m around it or you are, then you could carry it into your home and it could spread to your family,” she said. “And I know no one wants that to happen, especially when Rachel is with child or there is a small baby in the house.”

“What would you have me to do about it? Do you not want to work in camp?” he asked.

“No, I do. I just wonder if I might be able to avoid that task,” she paused. “Should I tell the other women or I don’t know, what should I do?”

“It’s a noble task but if it is too difficult for you then I suppose you could tell the other women when they next ask you to do it,” he offered, clearly disapproving of her protest.

“Would you think poorly of me if I did?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter much what I think. You should be more worried about how the other women would perceive it,” he answered.

“True,” she said, watching the toes of her shoes appear at the edge of her skirts as they walked. The sun was dipping below the trees as night drew closer. What Charles thought was important to her though. If she was to be part of his family, she wanted to feel that he liked her and wanted her around. She was ripped apart from everyone she knew and this kind man was literally her closest family. She didn’t think it unreasonable that she might want to have someone to lean on.  
In the following days she worked alongside the other women, mending clothes as best they could and doing laundry. Laundry was an arduous process as Amy had anticipated and certainly more complicated than how she knew to do laundry. None of the tasks were especially difficult; there was simply more steps and more to do. In regards to nursing, Amy took the time to express her concern about the task, citing her weak constitution and a history of family illnesses that would make her especially vulnerable. While there was some tension with some of the ladies, they still treated her politely and encouraged her to take on more laundry and mending since she wouldn’t be doing any of the nursing.

Carrying a bundle of clothing back to the fires where the other laundresses were working, she spotted a woman sitting alone with a needle in her hands and a pile of cloth on her lap. A young boy was curled up on a sheet on the ground beside her. He couldn’t have been more than two years old. The winter was a hard one and the effects of the cold and lack of food was evident everywhere you looked in camp. Men and women alike savored what little food they were given and tried their best to make it last but it never did last long. She heard that rations had already been limited but many were already relegated to half or even quarter rations.  
Amy was lucky. She had a warm house and a new family to return to at the end of the day. She had decent clothing but there were many, especially lower ranked soldiers and the women who could only try to continuously mend their threadbare clothing. While there were many children in the women’s section of the camp, few looked so pitiful and lonely as this one. Amy slowed her pace and observed the mother and child. He coughed hard and deep for several moments before settling down again on the ground between the fire and his mother’s feet. They both appeared so thin and frail, even from a short distance away. The little boy looked at her and locked eyes. Amy hadn’t realized that she stopped to look at them but she looked away and continued on.

As she continued on with her task, she felt the image of the mother and child weighing on her chest. She returned to the pot where she and Alma were washing clothes and dropped the new bundle in a basket. After a short period, she decided to ask Alma about the woman and boy.

“Say, I passed a woman with a little boy on my walk back,” Amy mentioned, stirring the clothing round in the pot. “They looked like they were starving. The boy was just huddled at his mother’s feet by the fire.”

“I’ve seen plenty of scenes like that. What did she look like?” Alma asked, looking over from where she was hanging clothes on a line.

“Frail, thin,” Amy began, thinking on another way to describe the woman. “She had very dark hair, almost pitch black. The little boy had lighter coloring than her.”

“That might be Keziah Murray. Hardly anyone talks to her,” Alma explained. “She’s half Indian, you know. Her husband was Irish.”

“I didn’t. Is that why no one talks to her?” Amy asked.

“Well, it might be for some, but she wasn’t always very friendly. She had a hard time after her husband died of a fever over a month ago and pushed the few people who were kind to her away.” Alma was quiet a moment. “I used to watch her little boy while she tended to her husband.”

“That’s awful,” Amy wasn’t sure what to say to something like that. “The poor little boy.”

“Well, he still has his mother. There are many little children that will never see their fathers or mothers again,” Alma sighed and continued with the laundry.  
Amy wondered if there was anything she could do for Mrs. Murray. If she could offer a blanket or some food, at least something for her little boy. Suddenly she realized how some people might see her charity. People might come to her for help or feel upset because she did not choose to help them instead. But it pained her to see a child in need. She felt like she had to do something, at least talk with Mrs. Murray and see if she would accept any help.

It took hours for Alma and Amy to finish their loads of laundry and by the time they did it was nearly dusk. On her way to deliver the finished laundry, Amy decided to stop by Mrs. Murray’s tent, if only to introduce herself and offer her company. All afternoon as she worked, she tried to rehearse in her head how the conversation might go, or rather how she wanted it to go and what she wanted to say. When she saw her, Mrs. Murray was walking back to her tent with her son on her hip and a small sack in her free hand. But this time when she saw Mrs. Murray, she could see very visibly the roundness of her belly. Amy was surprised but this only solidified her desire to be some help, especially if Mrs. Murray was expecting as well as trying to care for her son.

“Excuse me,” Amy announced herself as she drew close to the small campsite. Mrs. Murray looked up and stopped where she stood. “Hello, I’m Amalthea Peale. I suppose you could say I’m new here, and I just wanted to introduce myself and say hello,” Amy gave her a smile. The other woman stared at her a moment. “You’re Mrs. Murray?”

“Yes,” she finally said. “What brings you here?” Her voice was deeper than she expected but with an almost musical lilt. You wouldn’t be able to tell he was Native American from a distance but up close you could see how her skin tone and facial features differed from many of the other women’s.

“I wanted to say hello and see if there was anything I could help you with,” Amy answered, maintaining her friendly attitude. Mrs. Murray looked her over.

“I don’t want charity,” she said.

“I understand but I know how hard it is to be on your own, and I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be on your own and care for a small child,” Amy offered. “I just wanted to know if I could help you with anything. I could watch your boy for you while you work or have some time to yourself.” Mrs. Murray’s expression softened and she sighed softly as she set her son on the ground.

“How would I repay you for this?”

“However you want or can,” Amy shrugged, “You could teach me something you know, like how to knit or sing a song, or you could just talk with me. I don’t know many people here and it can be hard to connect with others sometimes. We could all use a friend sometimes.”

“That’s kind of you,” she said. “I was about to try to prepare something to eat. I don’t have much. We only get a half ration for the two of us. But you can stay if you like.”

“A half ration for the both of you?” Amy said, surprised. “That must be difficult.”

“It is, but I can’t earn enough to buy more food by mending and laundering clothes, so this is what we have,” she showed Amy the small sack and it’s contents, a few handfuls of cornmeal.

“It’s kind of you to offer to let me stay but I have to deliver this,” Amy lifted her basket of laundry. “I stay with my cousin, Captain Peale and his family in a nearby farmhouse, but I’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe we can work together and talk more,” Amy offered, hoping that Mrs. Murray wouldn’t feel offended if she left.

“Tomorrow,” Mrs. Murray considered aloud and nodded. “I’d like that.Thank you.”

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Amy nodded and smiled before turning to leave.  
The next day she met with Mrs. Murray again and they worked on mending a pile of clothes while they talked through the day. She learned her son’s name was John, after his maternal grandfather and he was born about two and a half years earlier in ‘75. The boy’s father was named James and died of smallpox in the previous December. The pair, soon to be trio, had nothing left and Keziah, as she wished to be called, decided they would have a better chance following the army. She confirmed that she was expecting another child but she was afraid that she would lose it because of the hardships of the winter. If she was able to carry the child for the full period, it would be born in the early spring but now, she wasn’t sure that would happen. Amy could feel her anxiety and pain as they talked.

She could feel the urgency of the situation and tried to formulate a plan in her mind of what she could do to help. She had essentially nothing of her own to give and Charles had already given her so much. Although he is a kind man, he must provide for his own growing family first and foremost. Tallmadge seemed to be the kind and understanding type and he had influence too. Perhaps he could persuade the general to allow full rations for Keziah and her son given her circumstances, at least until she can deliver. But how much influence does he really have? Someone like Hamilton might be better suited for this, Amy considered; he’s close to Washington and obviously thinks favorably of her. She decided to see how willing to help Tallmadge would be first.

The next day, after bringing some bread for little John and Keziah, she decided to search for Tallmadge among the sea of cabins and tents. Nervous because she may not be allowed to just wander through the camp without an escort, she grit her teeth and walked on, searching for familiar faces. She hadn’t told Charles about it for fear he might try to help on his own which would make her feel even more indebted to him, so she searched on her own. She thought she found where his tent was but she was stopped by an officer before she could go any further.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked her.

“I’m looking for Major Tallmadge,” she answered, her nerves intensifying.

“What’s your business with him?” he asked. She took a deep breath.

“It’s urgent and between me and Major Tallmadge,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“You shouldn’t be in this part of camp. The general doesn’t want women wandering among the men,” he looked her over.

“If you tell me where Major Tallmadge is then I wouldn’t be wandering,” she replied, surprised at her own boldness.

“He’s out on a raid, won’t be back for another day or so,” the man said.

“Well, do you know where I might find Colonel Hamilton?” she asked. The man sighed and clenched and unclenched his jaw.

“You need to return to your part of the camp,” he responded.

“I will, once my business in this part of camp is taken care of. Now, would you be so kind as to direct me to Colonel Hamilton?” she said.

“Fine. If you walk that way you should find a stone house; he’ll probably be down there,” he pointed in the direction she should go, obviously too busy or tired or cold to bother with arguing.

“Thank you,” Amy gave him a nod and turned to follow his directions. She had to walk for a while before she saw a handful of stone buildings. By the time she was within shouting distance, she saw Hamilton come out the front door of one, another taller man following him. They were talking about something quite animatedly. He spotted her as he walked and turned to meet her. A smile grew on his face as he approached. She returned the smile but it wavered as she examined Hamilton’s conversation partner. He immediately stood out not only because he was noticeably taller than Hamilton and herself but his uniform was different and he either powdered his hair or he was wearing a wig. Her stomach did a flip, unsure of who it was that accompanied her acquaintance but afraid to take a guess. She would find out soon enough.

“Miss Peale, what brings you here?” Hamilton asked, once they reach each other.

“I wanted to speak to you about something,” she explained, glancing to his friend nervously.

“Oh,” he looked to his friend and gestured to Amy. “May I present Miss Amalthea Peale.” Amy bowed her head and smiled with her introduction. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she considered who she’s being introduced to. “Miss Peale, may I introduce the Marquis de Lafayette.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the delay, with college and a bad breakup and writer's block, this chapter has had it's fair share of hurdles But here it is! And I've already got the next chapter close to being finished, hopefully you all won't have to wait quite so long lolol. 
> 
> As always comments and constructive criticism are always welcome! Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I apologize again about the wait and thank you for your comments on previous chapters. All the kind comments that I got on the previous chapters really helped me get back on track and remember why I wanted to write and share stories with others in the first place. So please don't forget just how much we writers appreciate every single comment. Thank you so much! And happy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> A note about historical accuracy and inaccuracy in this work.  
> I try to recognize historical record where I can but in many cases, I alter or bend historical facts to fit the story better and in some instances I simply use the TV show Turn: Washington's Spies as my source material. This piece is inspired by and influenced by both historical record and the TV show. Some characterizations are based on one source more than others because my research can be fairly limited, based on info available and my access to that info. 
> 
> The characterization of Charles Willson Peale and his wife Rachel is based almost entirely on my interpretation of them from what little research I have been able to do and the same goes for other historical figures featured in this series who did not appear in Turn.


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